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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26500351">Gosh... I know</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/eddie_martha/pseuds/eddie_martha'>eddie_martha</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>We know [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Golden Girls</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>F/F, Masturbation, Sexual Fantasy, unexpected desire</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-09-16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-09-16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 12:42:39</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>691</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26500351</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/eddie_martha/pseuds/eddie_martha</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Sort of sequel to "A little... you know"</p><p>What the scene in the kitchen might have done to Blanche.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Blanche Devereaux/Dorothy Zbornak</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>We know [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1926634</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>13</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Gosh... I know</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>For some reason Blanche couldn‘t sleep. Maybe she was getting old… <em>Oh, fiddle-dee-dee! </em>Not Blanche. <em>It‘</em><em>s</em><em> just, just, just the weather or something. </em>She lay awake for a while, tossing and turning a bit, letting her thoughts wander when a picture entered her mind. Something she had seen that day. Something she‘d never thought of seeing. Something she had secretly always wanted to see.</p>
<p>Dorothy having an orgasm. Good God! She‘d never expected to see that happen with her own eyes. She could not have imagined Dorothy‘s face before today‘s „incident“ in the kitchen. Dorothy was always so controlled. Seeing her let go, having to let go, forced by a tiny little machine… A moan escaped Blanche‘s lips. Wait, what was that? She wasn‘t turned on by seeing her friend come, was she? <em>Waterlily,</em> she said to herself, <em>you‘re straight. Why should a woman turn you on? </em><em>Especially Dorothy!? </em><span>She wasn‘t attractive, was she? Too tall, too deep a vioce, too buttoned up.</span></p>
<p>
  <em>Buttons,</em>
  <span> Blanche bit her lip, </span>
  <em>buttons are a good thing to think about instead of Dorothy. Buttons can be opened, like the buttons of a blouse. People‘s buttons can be pushed to make them loose </em>
  <em>control</em>
  <em>. Buttons can be pushed like on a little remote control. A remote connected to a vibrator… </em>
  <span>Blanche‘s breath got faster … </span>
  <em>placed in Dorothy‘s… WATERLILY, what‘s wrong with you? </em>
  <span>She sat up, turned on the light and shook her head. </span>
  <em>Waterlily, Waterlily… </em>
  <span>After a few deep breaths Blanche decided to try and go back to sleep.</span>
</p>
<p>But she couldn‘t, she just couldn‘t forget Dorothy. Counting sheep, inhaling and exhaling deeply, thinking of her happy place – her grandmothers mansion – nothing worked. Dorothy kept creeping back into her mind.</p>
<p><span>The expression on her face as she’</span><span>d</span><span> c</span><span>o</span><span>me undone. </span><span>The abandonment, the bliss… Blanche </span><span>closed her eyes</span><span>. She replayed that moment in her head </span><span>over and over </span><span>again. With each time </span><span>she </span><span>remembe</span><span>red</span><span> something new about it. </span><span>Dorothy had tried to surpress any visible reactions, but her body had betrayed her:</span><span> the way </span><span>her</span><span> head had sunk back, the way she’</span><span>d</span><span> closed her eyes, </span><span>bit her lip in delight, the groan, </span><span>her tight grip on the chair, that enchanting little move of her hips. The memories stirred Blanche’s arousal. </span><span>On it’s own, h</span><span>er hand</span> <span>began to move over her belly and further </span><span>down</span><span>. She only noticed it when her fingertips </span><span>reached the hot wetness between her thighs.</span></p>
<p><span>B</span><span>lanche gasped in surprise as she realized just </span><em>how</em><span> wet she was and therefore </span><em>how</em><span> much Dorothy‘s “little… you know” had turned her on. A sigh escaped Blanches lips at the thought of her friend coming right then and there in their kitchen… right before Blanche‘s eyes. The audacity Dorothy had had to walk around with that thing inside her… </span><em>Oh God…</em><span> automatically Blanche‘s fingers </span><span>slowly began to </span><span>mov</span><span>e</span><span>, drawing invisible, tender, arousing patterns </span><span>over her wet, swollen …</span><em>Goodness…</em><span> How beautiful Dorothy had been …</span><em>Uuuuuh… </em><span>Images of Dorothy in the various states of undress Blanche had seen her in began to flood her mind ...</span><em>Mmmm… </em><span>As her fingers began to move a little faster Blanche wondered what it would feel like, to touch </span><em>her</em><span>. What her skin would feel like, her lips, her tongue </span><em>...Dorothy… </em><span>In her imagination Blanche let her hands wander over her friends slender body. Over shoulders, arms, breasts </span><em>...GOSH… </em><span>Soft, delicate breasts </span><em>...Dorothy…</em><span> a </span><span>s</span><span>oft, rounded </span><span>belly. S</span><span>tretchmarks </span><span>attesting </span><span>a mother’</span><span>s strength. </span><span>Blanche’s back arched </span><span>a little</span><span>. </span><span>How s</span><span>he</span> <span>suddenly </span><span>longed to bury her face in Dorothy’s middle. Let her hands caress an elegant waist, womanly hips </span><em>...Dorothy, your hips… </em><span>trace the inside of her thighs, </span><span>up and up and up, until </span><em>...God… </em><span> Blanche gripped her sheets with her free hand as she tried to imagine Dorothy’s smell, her taste </span><em>...delicious… </em><span>She had never been with a woman, but right now as she felt herself get closer and closer all she wanted, all Blanche could think of was to make Dorothy make that face again. Make her come undone underneath her. Feel her, hear her, smell her, taste her, hold her...</span></p>
<p>
  <em>DOROTHY!</em>
</p>
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